


And what can I do with that but pour another glass

by Riv_ika



Series: this was an accident i swear [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Shovel Talk, Threats, implied do the do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:20:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26011777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riv_ika/pseuds/Riv_ika
Summary: Qui-Gon didn’t quite expect for the night to end with Quinlan Vos sitting across the table from him, smiling like a predator at its unsuspecting prey. Apparently, it’s time for them to talk about the fact that Quinlan and Obi-Wan are certainly not in a relationship.
Relationships: Feemor & Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Quinlan Vos, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn & Quinlan Vos, Qui-Gon Jinn & Tholme, Tholme & Quinlan Vos
Series: this was an accident i swear [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1907473
Comments: 12
Kudos: 388





	And what can I do with that but pour another glass

**Author's Note:**

> another fic I used a randomizer to get the character line up for. I got Qui-Gon and Quinlan and IMMEDIATELY knew what I was writing LMAO. I ship Obi-Wan with,,,everyone but the good thing about Quinlan is that Qui-Gon fits up into that timeline. Title is from Red Wine Spills by L. Ash Williams.

When Quinlan Vos knocked on his door, Qui-Gon Jinn knew he was in for a tiring night.

Obi-Wan left for a study session with Bant, eyeing his friend and his Master curiously, but choosing not to ask questions. Well, ‘friend’ was probably inaccurate.

Qui-Gon knows for certain that friend is inaccurate, staring at Quinlan, who sits across the table from him. He has a cup of tea, but he isn’t drinking it. Qui-Gon, meanwhile, is on his third cup and is certain he’ll need at least two more before this conversation is tolerable. Quinlan’s predatory smile says it all; he knows exactly what Qui-Gon is thinking and he _knows_ that he’s already exhausted.

Obi-Wan thinks he’s subtle, but he couldn’t be more wrong. He’s been sneaking off to see Quinlan during the night for _weeks_ and not only is Qui-Gon aware, but Tholme is too, so much so that it’s a regular topic of conversation between the two friends.

He should’ve known it was coming, really.

The two boys are both teenagers now, teenagers with _hormones_ and _feelings_. They’ve always been closer than the rest of their friends, so it’s a long time coming.

That doesn’t change the fact that Qui-Gon needs something stronger than tea to deal with this conversation.

“Master Jinn,” Quinlan finally says.

His tone is sickly sweet, but his smile is all _teeth_ , all _vicious_.

It’s the sort of smile that says: “I know that you know I’m sleeping with your Padawan and if you have an issue with that, I’m going to have an issue with you. For the rest of forever.”

Qui-Gon sighs. “Padawan Vos.”

They sit in silence for a few more moments.

“I’m calling your Master,” he says finally.

The boy shrugs. “You can. We had this conversation last week. He threatened to give me the Talk again and told Obi-Wan that if he hurt me, I probably deserve it.”

Qui-Gon doesn’t snort, but amusement lingers in his eyes. Tholme does love his Padawan, very much, but the boy is a _menace_ and the best way to deal with him is with copious amounts of both alcohol and sarcasm.

“And Tholme knows you’re here?”

“He asked me to record it. I’m not, but that’s only because Obi-Wan would be mad about it.”

Qui-Gon sighs. “Very well. Say what you need to.”

Quinlan grins and leans back in his chair, arms crossed. “Obi-Wan’s my boyfriend.”

They stare at each other for a few more moments.

“It’s not as if I didn’t know,” Qui-Gon mutters, finishing the last of his tea which leaves a bottomless hope in his heart for another cup, preferably with some kind of alcohol in it. “Anything else?”

The boy thinks for a second, squinting. “Nope!” he finally declares, all cheer. “Your turn. Tell me how you’ll feed me to your latest stray if I make him cry.”

Instead of doing that, Qui-Gon gets to his feet and goes around the table to Quinlan’s side, reaching for his abandoned cup. As he leans down-- he’s a giant, it’s not like he can help it-- he puts a hand on Quinlan’s shoulder and squeezes; it’s not enough to hurt, but it is enough to shock him. The Master thinks that he could do with remembering just how big he is, on occasion. Obi-Wan will probably huff at him for weeks after this, but oh well. He has to do it.

Qui-Gon ducks down to meet Quinlan’s gaze, eyes dark and focused right at him. He knows that Quinlan picked up memories of that mug, memories of him and Obi-Wan, which he thinks is adding to this little show.

“Quinlan Vos,” he says lowly, passive in a way that’s more threatening than any growl could ever be, “I am a firm believer in the will and power of the Force, but trust me when I say that if you so much as _bruise_ Obi-Wan Kenobi...I will put the fear of god in you.”

He lingers just long enough to watch Quinlan swallow roughly, then sweeps up the mug and moves to the kitchen.

Fifteen seconds later, he finds himself smiling at the sound of rapid footsteps and a closing door.

Well.

At least he took it seriously.

Later, when Obi-Wan storms in, Qui-Gon thankfully does have something a little stronger in his mug. He’s glad at least that his Padawan is too distressed to pay attention to it or the blinking of his wrist comm unit, which he quickly buries in the sleeve of his robe. 

“ _Master_ , what did you _do?_ ” The boy asks, attempting to be demanding though it comes out more begging than anything. 

(Obi-Wan has never been good at being defiant, something Qui-Gon is increasingly grateful for.)

“What did I do?” Qui-Gon echoes, slipping into that false ‘venerated Master’ facade.

The boy huffs. “Master! Quinlan was _terrified_!”

He raises a doubtful eyebrow. “He told you that?”

His amusement doubles when Obi-Wan’s expression falls and his cheeks go red. He shifts on his feet uneasily. “No,” he mumbles. “But I can tell!”

They both knew very well that Quinlan Vos was hardly one to admit to fear unless in private, much less a fear of _Qui-Gon Jinn_. He would give a great big smile and wave you off, then be panicking two minutes later. Obi-Wan, however, was very good at reading his fellow Padawan, some days even better than Bant, who was a literal empath.

“Padawan Vos and I simply had a conversation, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon says finally. “If you really want to know what we talked about, you should ask him.”

The Master-Padawan pair share considering looks.

Qui-Gon isn’t going to give in, that he knows. Obi-Wan doesn’t need more reasons to be upset with him.

Finally, Obi-Wan sighs and turns on his heel, storming to his room for the night.

The moment he’s gone, Qui-Gon pulls his sleeve away from his wrist and presses a button on his comm to reveal a blue hologram of his first Padawan.

Feemor is _cackling_ , which dissolves into wheezing after a minute.

“You’re a terrible brother-Padawan,” Qui-Gon remarks dryly, taking another sip of his not-tea.

When Feemor finally catches his breath, he wipes away tears. “And you’re a terrible Master! You never did that to _any_ of my boyfriends,” he snorts.

He rolls his eyes. “You never dated Quinlan Vos.”

“Fair enough.”

Qui-Gon squints, already able to see his former Padawan’s cogs turning. He smiles. “I can hear you thinking from here, Feemor. What is it?”

“I only wonder if Padawan Vos fully comprehended your threat.”

He _grins_ , vicious and gleeful. Feemor is _just_ as looming a figure as Qui-Gon, if not monumentally more intimidating because of his complete access to the archives and ability to make a person disappear from the galaxy in less than 15 seconds. It would be nice to remind Quinlan that Qui-Gon is far from the only one in Obi-Wan’s lineage with a lightsaber and an overblown sense of justice.

“Obi-Wan will be furious,” he says as if that’s changing his decision at all.

Feemor crosses his arms, a victorious smirk upon his face. “Well then, I’ll just have to make sure he isn’t around, won’t I?”


End file.
